


if you'll be my bodyguard

by jediseagull



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:50:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2808125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jediseagull/pseuds/jediseagull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Think of your poor sister, alone in a strange place. Come now, Costis. Even you can’t possibly be so hard-hearted.” And then the king was beside her, grabbing her hand and Costis’ and clasping them together. He looked up at Costis with laughing eyes. “I can make it an order.”</p><p>  <i>In which Thalia Ormentiedes meets royalty....and Costis is definitely in over his head.</i></p><p>Written for Yuletide 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you'll be my bodyguard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plalligator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plalligator/gifts).



> Huge thanks to my two wonderful betas, havisham and Isis, for all of their help as editors and sounding-boards, and to a pair of awesome fandom friends, for cheering me on the entire way. 
> 
> Title from the Paul Simon song, "You Can Call Me Al", because I have a terrible sense of humor.
> 
> Happy Yuletide to plalligator! Hope you like it.

Thalia had not expected the king to look so young. He couldn’t be older than twenty, she decided, glancing critically through lowered lashes. Still a skinny, scruffy boy, even with all the power that he wielded.

But then, many things were not quite as she had expected in the capital. Costis was a terrible correspondent under the best of circumstances, which these were not. Between his arrest and his pardon and his promotion – however irregular – he’d hardly had the time to describe the city, much less its vagaries.

What information she possessed had come from gossip, rumors muddied by distance and time. There were whispers - whispers that Erondites’ elder son had attempted regicide, that the king had beaten off twenty men armed only with a wooden stick, that the Queen’s Guard ( _Costis_ ) was somehow tangled inextricably in all of this.

And then, two weeks ago, Costis had sent her a letter.

 _Dearest Thalia_ , it read. _I hope you and Father are well, and that you have not named the new calf after your foolish brother as you threatened in your last note. I suspect you will forgive me for not writing more often when you hear my news. I am to remain a lieutenant, as well as my king’s personal guard, and my salary will be in proportion. I am sending some of it to Father_ (for her dowry, she suspected, though he had been tactful enough not to say so) _but there is a little extra. Enough, I think, for you to visit me here. Say you’ll come, and I’ll ask the king if you might have a room in the palace for your stay._

_Yours,_

_Costis_

She had needed to sit down. The Ormentiedes were _patronoi_ , yes, but even before they had left the main house their family had not been a wealthy one. She’d grown up in the twenty-mile radius around their home, and though their father had relied on her more since Costis left to join the Guard, she’d never expected to leave the Gede Valley, much less see the palace of Attolia. She was, at best, a stop-gap, until her brother could retire or she married. It didn’t matter that Costis had no head for trade. He would inherit their meagre property or, if he were to die in service, it would fall to her future husband. It didn’t matter that she’d been the one who learned business at their father’s knee.

Like her mother and aunts before her, Thalia would raise her family on this land, and be buried in the same soil as her forebears. Practicality ran in the Ormentiedes line. It had not always been the fate she’d wanted for herself, but she had long ago resigned herself to it, and it would suit her well enough.

But if she could see just a little bit more of the world before that…

And now she was standing in front of the king himself, thinking unflatteringly about his beautifully-embroidered coat. It probably cost as much as two months’ harvest. He didn’t have the height to pull it off.

Costis stood between them, and she knew without looking that he was only able to resist the urge to fidget from the long years of practice afforded him by the Guard. She had been two weeks shy of her thirteenth birthday when he’d ridden off to join their ranks - a mere child, really, and he’d never quite gotten to know the young woman she’d become. He could try not to seem _quite_ so worried, though. She wouldn’t bite unless provoked.

“Oh, stand up properly,” the king said - sighed, really - and Thalia straightened from her curtsey. “Costis, did someone find a room for her?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The king waved a hand negligently. “Then take the rest of the day off.” Costis made a slight noise of protest, and the king glared. “I didn’t thrash half the Guard for you to follow me around like an abandoned puppy. Shoo.”

“Let me send a message to the barracks for someone -” The king’s glare intensified. To her surprise, Costis didn’t shrink away. His jaw squared, his shoulders settled like he was preparing for a fight.

“Do I have to exile you as well?” the king asked. “Don’t think I won’t.” His voice slipped into petulance. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Costis said, and the king’s eyes flashed with - was it triumph? - until he continued, “But Her Majesty is much scarier than you are, and she doesn’t want you left alone.”

The man had saved him from being charged with treason, and now Costis was defying the king to his face. What in the name of the gods had gotten into her big brother? But the king wasn’t going down without a fight, and she realized with dawning horror that he was gesturing at _her._

“Think of your poor sister, alone in a strange place. Come now, Costis. Even you can’t possibly be so hard-hearted.” And then the king was beside her, grabbing her hand and Costis’ and clasping them together. He looked up at Costis with laughing eyes. “I can make it an order.”

The king was holding her hand. Attolis Eugenides, holding her hand.

Costis heaved a sigh, and shook his head so that brown strands of hair flopped across his forehead. “Fine. My King.” He said the title like another man might say, “you idiot”.

“Come on, Thalia. Aris wanted to meet you.”

And he swept her through the door without another word, the king’s smirk following them all the way out into the hallway.

\------------------------------------------ 

Aris wasn’t in the barracks when they went, but she met Diurnes, one of Costis’ old squad, who was promptly sent off at a jog to the king’s side - “If he can find him,” Costis said, shaking his head - and Exis and Meron and Legarus. Legarus smiled very prettily as he bowed over her hand, and Costis glared even harder than the king as he yanked her away.

“He has the brains of a sheep,” he grumbled as they moved to an empty table. “And Father would have my head if you ran off with a member of the Guard, good family or not.”

“I wouldn’t,” Thalia said, offended that he might think she’d dishonor their family so. “I can admire a horse without needing to ride it, why not a man?”

“Thalia!” Costis’s ears went pink. “You can’t say things like that!”

Like what,she wondered. It was a perfectly innocent thing to say...

Oh. _Oh_. Realizing too late, she yelped in embarrassment. “No! I didn’t - I _wouldn’t_ \- Costis!” She knew what happened between a man and a woman - she’d grown up around livestock, after all, and was no blushing innocent. But it was not the sort of thing one discussed with one’s big brother.

Costis ran a hand over his face. “That’s good to hear.” _Please let’s never speak of this again_ went unsaid.

Casting about for a new topic of conversation, Thalia’s eyes lit upon the stack of bronze staters piled between two men. They were playing some dice game she didn’t recognize, but that wasn’t what had caught her eye. Stamped on each of the coins, a woman’s profile shone dimly in the afternoon light.

“Tell me about the queen,” she said. “Is she truly as beautiful as everyone claims?”

“More so,” Costis admitted easily. He seemed relieved to have something other than her romantic prospects to discuss. “Brilliant, really. Like looking upon the goddess herself, until you see her with the king.”

The best way to get more information out of Costis was patience. She waited expectantly, and he didn’t disappoint. “She loves him. The gods watch us, protect us, but eventually they must let us die. I don’t think -” He shrugged. “She might have cut off his hand, but she would do a thousand times worse to anyone else who tried to take him from her.”

She had noticed the hook, of course. It was impossible not to look for it, knowing as every Attolian did the sordid tale of how the Eddisian Thief lost his hand - and won a wife. It didn’t seem possible that two people with such a violent history could marry, let alone fall in love.

But Costis sounded wistful as he talked about the queen’s regard for her king. He would know, she supposed. Nobody except Her Majesty spent as much time around the king as Costis did.

 ------------------------------------------

The rest of the day they passed in sightseeing, Costis’ preoccupation with his abandoned duty waning as he took her around the city until he was laughing at her wide-eyed delight. And that was all well and good, Thalia knew, but it didn’t exactly prevent him from spending the entirety of the next day glued to the king’s side. And the next one. It was a good thing he didn’t have a sweetheart, she thought grouchily. No woman could be expected to put up with a man who spent every waking hour on duty, even when that duty was as important as guarding the royal personage.

By the third day of unofficial isolation, she’d had enough. The palace was large, and its hallways confusing and unfamiliar, but she remembered the way outside, and in the bright sunlit courtyards it was a matter of minutes to grab a passing ostler and get directions to the barracks. A wrong turn into a quiet garden distracted her for a few moments, but Thalia slipped into the Guard’s mess hall just before the end of the breakfast hour and counted it a victory when a grizzled cook she recognized from Costis’ tour winked and handed her a plate.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and a pleasant tenor said, “What’s this, Theodorus? If you’re going to hand out such generous servings to every pretty face who walks through the door, you might have at least had a care for my poor grumbling stomach and given me seconds.”

“By the look of your stomach, boy, it doesn’t even need firsts,” the old man grumbled, but he ladled a heap of lamb and olives onto the plate that obligingly presented itself on Thalia’s left. She turned, and looked up into a grinning face.

“You must be Thalia,” the man said. He was around Costis’ age, paler in the way of most city-dwellers, and a line of sunburn peeled down his broad nose between crinkled hazel eyes. Despite the cook’s comment, he was as fighting fit as the rest of the Guard. “I’m Aristogiton, properly, but everyone calls me Aris.” He peered at her. “Let me guess - abandoned in favor of playing nursemaid to the king.”

She shrugged. “His Majesty was generous enough to grant me a temporary room in the palace. I knew better than to hope for more.”

“Even so. Rather irresponsible of Costis, wasn’t it, to leave his own kin without an escort?” He smiled to turn censure into a joke, and she let her own lips twitch upwards in answer. “Allow me to offer my services in his stead.”

Aris, she soon discovered, was well-liked. Their table rapidly filled with other off-duty men, and if one or two of the better-bred soldiers turned up their nose at sitting with _okloi_ \- and worse, a _girl_ \- they were greatly outnumbered. It seemed that most of the guards normally preferred to spend their time off in the city’s taverns and brothels, not that they would admit to the latter in front of her. But with the recent attempts on the king’s life, and the ensuing reduction of the Guard, everyone was leery of straying too far in case of an emergency.

In any case, they were content to sit around a table anywhere, so long as they could drink in moderation and gamble with less restraint. Costis might have frowned, but when she mentioned it, thinking the men might find it amusing, Aris responded with apparent seriousness that Costis shouldn’t have left her to fend for herself in the palace to begin with. The language raised her hackles.

“I don’t care for being coddled,” she snapped. Aris shrugged, only vaguely apologetic.

“Costis saved my life. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for him and his.” Whatever the reason, he was more than willing to pick up the slack left by her brother’s absence, and when Aris left for his evening patrol with a promise to introduce her to the captain tomorrow, Exis was there to take his place, gruffly offering to walk her back to her rooms after dinner. Sighing, she accepted, thanking him for his kindness.

The rest of the Guard must have felt similarly about Costis, she thought crossly the next day. She felt like the ball in a game of keep-away, tossed back and forth between escorts and amusements, including – memorably – a practical lesson in how to cheat at cards. As men filtered in and out of the guardhouse in shifts, she was introduced to each in turn as Costis’ younger sister, prompting respectful nods and the occasional flirtatious comment, inevitably met with a thumping from whichever man was currently responsible for her. It was sweet in its own way, but she had meant what she’d told Aris yesterday. She didn’t like being coddled, even if they were doing it for her brother’s sake.

Finally, around mid-afternoon, she’d had enough. Standing from the table, she mouthed ‘privy’ at a few confused faces and saw them return to watching the ongoing game of dice between two squad leaders. The winner’s squad got to patrol indoors, and at the tail end of summer that prize was a sweet one. The spectators would take some time before they began to wonder what was taking her. She really did need to use the privy, though, so she turned the corner of the building, heading towards a jutting extension of the servant’s quarters.

“...all saw you with that Ormentiedes girl,” a man sneered from somewhere nearby. She twitched at the rancor in his voice, but a quick scan of her surroundings didn’t reveal the speaker. He had to be behind the barracks, out of sight from the traffic through the courtyard. She crept forward.

“Do you have a point, Nikandros, or do you merely enjoy stating the obvious?” That sounded like Aris, though he’d never taken such a hard tone with her.

“You’re wasting your time. Her brother and the false king have ruined the Guard, and as soon as the queen figures that out, the Ormentiedes will be in the gutter with the rest of the traitors, where they belong.” He spat. “So if you think fucking some _patronoi_ trash will make them promote you, you’re deluding yourself.”

There was a terrible crunching noise, then a thump and clatter as an armored body hit the dust.

“Shut your mouth _,_ ” said Aris, cold and terrible. “Costis is five times the guard you’ll ever be, you jealous piece of shit, and he and his sister both are better than this court deserves.”

The other man spat again, cursing, but he didn’t respond, and she heard footsteps as Aris walked away.

She had known, of course, that not everyone would be happy with the reduction in the Guard, nor with Costis, but she’d thought from the reactions in the barracks that most of the men had thrown their lot in with the king, and so with her brother.

Apparently, that was not the case. Aris was clearly firmly on their side, but how many other guardsmen felt as that one did? Implying inappropriate attentions towards her was harmless enough, since any potential husband would be unlikely to hear such rumors. But to believe that the queen might turn against her husband...Rattled, she decided to forgo the latrines, and turned back to the palace to seek the reassuring solitude of her rooms.

She was halfway back across the courtyard when a voice halted her in her tracks. “Thalia?”

 _Drat_.

Costis was smiling hesitantly as he approached. “Hullo. I was hoping I’d find you here when you weren’t in your room. I’m sorry I couldn’t come visit you yesterday, but Aris said he and Exis had kept an eye out.” She huffed and extended a hand to him, twining their arms together as they paced towards the palace. If she told Costis what she’d heard, she knew, he’d only fret and want to send her home early.

“I haven’t minded. They were both very helpful.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, still anxious. “I learned how to cheat at cards today,” she added impulsively, and his expression of shocked dismay was even more amusing than she’d hoped. She pushed all memories of the argument aside. She wasn’t going to waste this precious time with her brother.

“Well,” Costis said, sounding slightly strangled. “I’ve come to propose more appropriate entertainment. How would you like to see a session of court?”

She spun and clutched at him furiously. “If you’re joking –” But Costis was not the sort, and he was already shaking his head in denial.

“It’s petitioners’ court today, so you won’t stand out. His Majesty said I was welcome to bring you if I wanted, since he’s having a bath and, I quote, ‘If an assassin is good enough to get into the royal bathroom, he deserves a fair shot.’”

Costis pulled a face at her quirked brow. “I know, but I thought I could come fetch you, and we’d be back at the king’s apartments before he’s finished dressing. If we hurry.”

Motivated, Thalia applied herself to hurrying.

\------------------------------------------ 

Court was spectacular. Petitioners lined the walls, waiting to be called forward by a steward, while between each carved pillar of the great room, gleaming guards in full armor stood in immovable formation. More guards stood towards the back, where a single dais rose.

On that dais sat the queen, resplendent on her damascened throne. Thalia supposed the king sat there as well, but why anyone in the room would spare a glance for him in the presence of his wife she did not know.

 _Like the Goddess_ , Costis had said, and meant it. Attolia was coolly, serenely beautiful in a way that didn’t seem quite fair for a mere mortal, and the perfection of her hair and face and body gave way to a pair of eyes that looked at men and found them wanting.

Thalia felt she looked rather like the back end of a pig in comparison. She consoled herself with the fact that if she did, she was not the first nor the last woman who would look upon the queen of Attolia and think so. To her further astonishment, though the king was indeed present - and when she was finally able to tear her eyes from the queen she noticed he had managed to find an even less flattering cut of coat - he left the majority of the petitions to Attolia. He offered quiet suggestions only intermittently, as did the two older men flanking their thrones. One, she gathered, was the captain Aris had said she’d meet later. The other, according to an older woman standing near her, was the Secretary of the Archives and, the woman whispered, rumored to be the queen’s spymaster.

Yet the queen’s easy competence with her petitioners made it clear why the men yielded before her. She would never be the soft heart, but she judged each case with clarity and sense, and more often than not her people appeared grateful for her rulings. But then, she had been doing this alone for more than half of Thalia’s life. No untried filly, this one.

The woman who’d pointed out the Secretary went forward when summoned, and related a complicated story about the construction of a new city well that was causing the ground around her inn to sink. Attolia bent her head for a moment to catch her husband’s comment; gold earrings flashed. “A survey team will be sent no later than next week. If it is the result of poor craftsmanship, the well will be repaired at the treasury’s expense. In the meanwhile, the architect’s guildmaster will wish to hear more details to ensure the ground is not so unstable as to be dangerous.” Her voice hinted at roughness from speaking to so many for so long, but it was steady as she made her pronouncement.

The woman curtsied deep and low, and was entirely earnest in her gratitude. “Thank you, My Queen.” As the next petitioner came up, the king flicked his eyes across the room. His gaze settled on Thalia for an instant, and he smirked minutely, lifting two fingers from the tabletop in the tiniest of gestures. Costis, looking very decorative behind the royals and their advisors, was too far away to see, but tired as she must have been, the queen noticed immediately.

One delicate eyebrow quirked, but she was more well-mannered than her incorrigible spouse, and firmly kept her gaze facing forward, and so she was the first to notice the palace runner who pushed through the waiting masses to approach the dais. Chest heaving, the boy bowed perfunctorily and quietly gasped out something that made the queen’s face harden. Despite not having the slightest idea of what was happening, every person in the room shifted uncomfortably in response, save one.

The king had gone utterly still, blanching despite his summer tan. He stared through the messenger, as though he were seeing an image no one else could. Thalia thought he might faint, and apparently the Captain of the Guard - Teleus, she thought his name was - agreed with her assessment. He took the king by the shoulder, and Attolis flinched.

That seemed to be the signal for the rest of the court to dismiss itself. As the king shook off Teleus’ hand, petitioners and spectators alike headed en masse for the exits. Stragglers were helped along by the Guard. Thalia was caught up in the swirling crowds, and tried in vain to catch Costis’ eye.

Having nowhere else to go, she made her way towards the barracks. Perhaps Aris would be able to explain what was going on.

Aris was indeed in the mess, but as she walked through the door Thalia immediately realized that he would be of no help. The men of his squad were tightening their helmets and buckling on greaves and breastplates, metal where on a day like today they might otherwise wear leather. The armor was decorative enough to be parade wear, and functional in the way that generations of near-constant war had schooled into every Attolian blacksmith.

It was not patrol gear by any stretch of the imagination, and though Aris smiled briefly when he saw her enter, he immediately turned back to his squad.

“Look sharp, boys. The captain wants us to make an impression.” She saw Legarus straighten minutely, and the rest of the men formed up around their leader. They marched out in double rows, soldiers off to some unknown battle.

They _were_ soldiers, Thalia reminded herself. Not in the army proper, no, but the men of the Guard had bled and spilt blood for their queen for as long as she had been Attolia. Her heart clenched suddenly, vision going fuzzy around the edges.

Whatever had so worried the king, was it dangerous? She knew her big brother. Always wanting to play the hero.

He would step in front of an assassin’s blade for Their Majesties.

No.

He would do it for his king, and his queen.

It was suddenly too much. She spun and stumbled towards the doorway - fresh air. She needed air -

And rebounded off of a solid wall of muscle and steel. Scarred arms caught her elbows, steadying her. Brown eyes regarded her curiously under knitted brows shot through with grey.

“Captain,” she said.

“My lady,” he responded automatically, and blinked. “I haven’t the slightest idea who you are.”

“Costis Ormentiedes’ sister, sir. Thalia.” Saying it brought the worry back in a rush. “Is Costis all right? The king and queen aren’t in danger, are they?”

Teleus was clearly still distracted. “He’s fine. They’re fine. What in the name of the gods is Costis’ sister doing in the guards’ mess?” But if Costis was mule-stubborn, he had learned it from arguing with her.

“Waiting for my brother, sir.” She was pushing, she knew, but needs must. “When will he be back?”

“I -” he blinked at her again, and she watched him visibly refocus himself. “Lady Thalia, I’m afraid that is a matter of security. If you have a room in an inn somewhere, I suggest you wait there. I will tell Costis to find you when he is finished.”

“The king has given me a room in the palace, and freedom of the palace grounds,” she said firmly. “So if it is all the same to you, Captain, I’ll wait here.” And she dropped herself onto the nearest bench and turned her back on him.

It wasn’t _exactly_ true, she thought. But he’d given her lodgings in the palace sure enough, and never said anything about where on the grounds she _couldn’t_ go, and didn’t that mean she could go anywhere? No one else had been there when she’d met the king save Costis, and Teleus couldn’t say that His Majesty hadn’t given her the permissions she claimed.

And besides, this king had been the Thief, once. He of all people would have to forgive her a little sneakiness.

Teleus rearranged the duty rosters with brisk efficiency, barking orders and drawing up schedules,  then left at a jog. Presumably to go to wherever Their Majesties were. And Costis.

Thalia waited on her bench, knowing it was one thing to claim a spot in the mess and another entirely to demand an audience with the king and queen.

And waited.

Hours passed. The first squads dispatched after court's abrupt ending trickled back in, chattering away. Military discipline only extended so far, and rumors were flying. She kept her eyes glued to the grain of the table, and strained her ears instead.

"...because of Sounis' missing heir, I think."

"How much do you want to bet His Majesty had something to do with it?" That voice she recognized, a young corporal, fresh to the Guard and still somewhat dazzled by the notion of serving royalty.

"Nobody's going to take that bet, you idiot. Every child from here to Sounis knows they're related. And he was her Thief."

"Well, he's our king now,” said the young corporal petulantly. “Maybe it's about an alliance?"

"Maybe the Mede are on their way back?"

Several men made disgusted noises at that.

"Then we'll run 'em off. Greasy painted bastards." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the corporal spit onto the dust.

“Yes, we will,” someone said cheerfully. “But not on empty stomachs. Go on, Cook’s feeling all neglected.” It was Aris. He sat heavily on the bench beside her, sighing in pleasure as he stretched his legs underneath the table. The knuckles on his left hand were an angry reddish purple, swollen. “If you were Costis, I know that thrice-cursed honor would keep you from asking what’s going on. But you’re not, and I can tell you want to. Ask, though I can’t promise you an answer.”

She thought carefully for a moment. The Thief, and alliances. The Mede, and Attolis. Treason.

“The message that was brought to Their Majesties. It was from Eddis, wasn’t it?” Beside her, Aris startled, then nodded.

“Yes. Clever of you to figure that out.”

“I’ve got good hearing,” said Thalia dryly. “And good eyes. Whatever it was, it wasn’t happy news, was it?”

Aris shrugged. “Regardless of what Charon says, I don’t think it’s the Mede, not yet. Nahuseresh was slime, but he left with his tail between his legs. Even if they’re mustering an army against us, they won’t strike until they’re sure they’re ready.”

“Then it is Sounis, and the missing heir.”

“Perhaps. Costis heard from an Eddisian - one of the king’s cousins, who might even know what he’s talking about - that the heir and His Majesty once traveled together, and were on good terms. I couldn’t tell you what the message was even if I wanted to; it could be that they found the body.” If they had, it would make sense that the king was upset. “But,” Aris went on, dropping his voice lower, “You still haven’t asked the right question.”

She looked at him, puzzled.

“Who do you think _brought_ the message?”

 ------------------------------------------

As with the queen of Attolia, Eddis had ruled her own country single-handedly for long enough that most of the mountain nation’s coins had been restamped with her profile. The Gede Valley didn’t see much in the way of foreign trade, even after the elevation of Eddis’ beloved cousin Eugenides to king of Attolia, but the odd Eddisian stater had made its way to them in the past. The first time Thalia had handled one at the market, she’d thought it a very poor forgery. Everyone knew Attolia was flawless, and the woman on the coin had a hooked nose. She’d told the man who’d given it to her to take his business and his false coins elsewhere, until her father had swooped in.

“Look, girl. The obverse is like our own, a queen’s profile, but the back gives it away.” He flipped the coin, revealing the image of a jagged mountain surrounded by four symbols. “The Sacred Mountain in Eddis, and the mark of Hephestia.” And that was the end of it. Silver was silver, no matter whose portrait was stamped on it.

She tried to recall the face on the coin now, and found age had blurred all but the vaguest impression of that strong nose. Incredibly, Aris had said that he and Eddis were of an age, making the foreign queen several years younger than Attolia. “But,” he had acknowledged, draining the last of his dinner wine, “She’s got the same eyes as Her Majesty. Old eyes. They say the gods kept her safe when the plague came to Eddis a decade back, and blessed her with Hamiathes’ Gift, which bestows immortality.” Then he had laughed, somewhat sheepishly. “And they say she promptly threw it off a mountain, so now I’m the one spreading rumors. Forgive me. I can trust you not to follow in my footsteps?”

She had spread her arms in an expansive gesture, encompassing the noisy chaos of the barracks. “The only people in this entire city I know well enough to tell are right here. Or Costis. Who also already knows.”

“True enough.”

She was curious, though. Aris had been right in his assessment; as children, Thalia had always been the one to poke her nose where it didn’t belong, and she had dragged Costis along with her until she realized he was more of a liability than an asset. He never failed to take his share of the blame, gods bless him, but he had been miserable about secrets.

With any luck, he still was.

So when Costis practically fell through the doorway of his small room in the middle of the night, she was sitting at his desk, trying to write a letter home and utterly failing to find polite words for her growing sense of bitterness. He drew up short when he spotted her.

“Thalia?” He sounded exhausted, and she felt the tiniest pang of guilt. Here she was, angry that Costis would inherit something she wanted for herself, while he wore himself thin for the sake of keeping others safe. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine,” she hastened to soothe him. “But as to whether something is wrong...perhaps _you_ could tell me.” He frowned blearily at her, moving to sit on the bed so he could untie his sandals. “The men talk, Costis, and I’m not stupid. I know the queen of Eddis is here.” His frown deepened.

“Well, you shouldn’t. She’s not here on an official visit, and she doesn’t want Sounis getting any ideas.”

“Tell that to your fellow guards.” She studied him, taking in the dark circles under his eyes. “Is it that bad, whatever message she brought?” Costis made a confused noise, muffled by the breastplate he was tugging over his head. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” he replied drily. “But no, actually. Turn around, I want to change.” She rolled her eyes and did as he’d asked. There was a moment of rustling fabric. Then he said awkwardly, “She didn’t bring a message. She came because someone may have let slip to the king’s cousins that he seemed homesick.”

“Oh, Costis,” she sighed. “You didn’t.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“You have never meant to, dear brother, and yet somehow Father always knew that it was us who’d upset the milk pail or eaten the last of the summer corn.” She heard him huff out a half-breath of amusement, but he didn’t deny it. “May I turn back around now?”

“Yes. Anyways, she came because she was worried about him. I think they’re quite fond of each other, though the king has an odd way of showing it. Like a cat when you’ve stepped on its tail, all yowling and bristling.”

It was her turn to giggle. It sounded very much like what she knew of Attolis, that he would show affection by being prickly. “I wish I could have seen it.”

“No, you don’t,” Costis grumped. “Eddis just stood there, calm as you please, talking to Her Majesty about the harvest while the king carried on in the background, and when she wouldn’t indulge him he started taking it out on everyone else in the room instead.” _Like me_ , his scowl said.  

“To be fair, you’re at least part of the reason,” she started, and Costis raised a finger threateningly.

“Don’t you say it. I am in no state to deal with impertinent little sisters, and I will throw you out on your ear.”

Mischief sparked through her. “That’s all right. I’m sure Legarus will be more than happy to walk me back to my room.” Costis went furiously, gratifyingly red, insisting that she not try and go back to the palace proper tonight and that he would borrow a spare pallet from the storeroom. Doing so was the work of a few minutes, and she didn’t protest at the poor substitute for the luxurious mattress in her borrowed quarters. Moments after he extinguished the last candle, the sound of Costis’ breathing evened out as he slept, and Thalia happily followed him into her own dreamless slumber.

\------------------------------------------ 

The next morning dawned early, still cool enough that the air was crisp when Costis hauled her out of bed. “Whuh,” she grunted, and kicked at him, but he caught her ankle and pulled until she was forced to either sit up or be yanked onto the floor. She was used to early mornings on the farm, but at home she had the good sense to go to bed at a reasonable hour, and so it didn’t feel quite so much as if her head had been rung like a bell.

“Baths,” Costis said cheerfully. “I can tell you haven’t been going to the palace bathhouse, and you really should. Ouch!” She had thumped him in the shoulder. “Don’t be a brat, I didn’t mean it that way. You can’t tell me you don’t want to try a having a bath fit for a queen.”

“She doesn’t -” Thalia gasped, and Costis grinned.

“No, there are private baths in the royal apartments. But in theory, the queen or king could use the public baths if they wished, and most of the visiting nobles and ambassadors and what-have-you do use them, so they’re much nicer than anything you’ll find in the rest of the city.”

As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She’d been making do with the washbasin in her room, but it wasn’t the same as a real bath. Costis changed back into his duty uniform, and they stopped by the mess, grabbing lumpy rolls studded with olives to eat as they walked.  

He dropped her off at the women’s baths, but not before extracting a promise that she would return to her room immediately afterwards so as to not further antagonize Captain Teleus. Waving farewell, Thalia laid her free hand on the heavy wooden door, and pushed.

Damp air billowed outwards. She stepped into the small changing room, careful of the slick tiles. Dress and breastband went on a wooden peg hanging on the wall, sandals were tucked neatly under the bench below them. Other women laughed and chattered in groups of two and three, some shedding clothes and others dressing, damp and scrubbed pink from bathing. Only one other seemed to have come alone. She had already disrobed, revealing a stocky, lightly muscled frame, but she seemed perplexed by the two doors that led deeper into the baths, forehead crinkling as she looked back and forth between them.

“May I help you with something?” Thalia asked politely. The woman smiled.

“You probably noticed I’m not overly familiar with the customs of a public bathhouse. Is there a particular order in which one should enter the rooms?”

“Yes, though you’re not bound to follow it.” She pointed. “Frigidarium first, if you want a proper Attolian bath.” The woman followed behind her into the first chamber, and cursed. Apparently she hadn’t been expecting the sudden drop in temperature.

“What pox-ridden fool came up with this?” She extended one leg to poke at the water, withdrawing it hurriedly when she discovered it was even colder than the rest of the room.

“It’s good for you,” Thalia protested, and the woman shook her head vehemently.

“I spend half the winter snowed in up to my neck. I’m not going to waste a perfectly good afternoon being any colder than I need to be.”

“Are you from the foothills, then?” The valleys hardly ever saw snowfall. Thalia had been thrilled when a light dusting covered the barren fields her eighth winter, but that had been an exceptionally cold year, and her father spent the entire season fretting about the crops. She remembered watching him argue down other merchants, trying to turn a profit on their meager yield. She’d learned a lot that year.

The woman looked up from glaring suspiciously at the icy pool to shoot another fleeting smile at Thalia. “Around there, yes. Is this really necessary?”

“Absolutely,” Thalia said. The woman groaned quietly as she descended into the water, Thalia slipping in noiselessly after her. Goosebumps raised on their exposed shoulders, and her companion pulled a face.

“I’m sorry, this is barbaric.”

“You mean it’s healthy,” Thalia reminded her virtuously.

“No,” the woman grumbled. “I’m sure I meant barbaric.” But she subsided, wrapping her arms around her torso in a futile attempt to preserve body heat.

They stayed in the frigidarium for a few minutes more, until Thalia was beginning to lose feeling in her toes. “Shall we?”

“ _Please_ ,” the other woman said fervently, and heaved herself out of the pool as quick as was humanly possible.

She liked the tepidarium much better, and they spent longer lounging in the warmer chamber. Thalia introduced herself, and the woman - “Helen,” she said, quirking her lips at a private joke - told her about snowstorms so fierce they barred doorways and killed livestock. “I confess I prefer the summer in the hills,” she added, “Less dry. But it’s always better to be too hot than too cold.”

“Well,” said Thalia. “If you want heat...” There were small clay jars of oil stacked on shelves against one wall, and they each took one, rubbing the olive-scented liquid into their skin. Then it was on to the steam room. Helen took one step inside and sighed with genuine pleasure.

“Oh, this is lovely.” And without further ado she draped herself over one of the wooden risers and closed her eyes. Thalia followed suit, slumping against the wall and letting the steam waft over her. Tendrils of hair stuck uncomfortably to the back of her neck and shoulders, and she glanced enviously at Helen’s short-cropped locks. She might have passed for a soldier, with her breasts wrapped and in armor. Her crooked nose showed signs of a break, and her arms were well-defined, muscle cording under the skin. There were, Thalia recalled, legends about women who discarded their dresses and long hair to take up the sword. Berenike was the most famous among them, a noble’s daughter who slew the husband who struck her, and - according to the tale - spent the rest of her life helping other women who were threatened or abused. Perhaps this Helen was another. Poison was all very well and good when you were queen, Thalia thought ruefully, and had time to plan ahead. For everyone else, a solid length of steel was probably more efficient, and equally effective.

After some time, even Helen had had enough of the steam room’s overwhelming temperature, and they shuffled back to the tepidarium, feeling pleasantly limp and relaxed. Strigils removed the majority of the oil from their bodies, and a quick dousing with a bucket warm water took care of the rest.

In the changing room, as they finished dressing, Helen turned to her. “Thank you, by the way. I’m not sure if I said it earlier, but I appreciated your help and your company.”

It was no problem at all, and Thalia said so. “Still,” Helen said, holding open the door and gesturing for Thalia to precede her. “I hardly know anyone here and it was nice to have someone to talk...to…” She trailed off as a small contingent of guards clattered through the courtyard, up the steps to the bathhouse.

“Your Majesty, the king requests you join him,” the sergeant said, bowing hastily at Helen. And then he seemed to see Thalia, and his expression shifted to one of confusion and dawning horror. “She’s not one of your maids.”

“I’m afraid not,” said the queen of Eddis. “Gentlemen, meet my new friend Thalia.”

 ------------------------------------------

There were, Thalia felt, a small but significant number of experiences that no man or woman could be expected to bear with complete composure. Some were good, like being blessed with a vision from the gods. Others - and she thought briefly of the king’s lost hand - were not.

And then there was discovering that your erstwhile bathing companion, in addition to being a source of pleasantly forthright conversation, was royalty, and where that fell on the spectrum depended entirely on what said royalty planned on doing about it. The Guard had promptly bustled them away in different directions, Eddis off to gods-knew-where and Thalia to some small unused antechamber, but they would not say why. They’d been polite enough, bowing her into the room and calling for a small plate of refreshments for her to nibble at while she waited, but they’d wisely stationed themselves outside the door where she could not pester them with questions.

Eddis. Gods, and she’d thought Attolis hadn’t seemed kingly enough. She’d spent over an hour talking with the mountain queen, and never once considered the other woman could be the one over whom the barracks were buzzing. Perhaps that was where the king got it from, she mused. If he’d grown up around thinking that all royalty was as modest and approachable as Helen - Eddis - little wonder that he struggled with the Attolian court’s tendency towards ostentation.

Minutes passed in silence. They’d given her an assortment of olives, as well as cheese and watered wine, and she amused herself by trying to identify which region had produced each fruit. One acidic red variety was particularly familiar, and she let the tart flavor of the Gede olive wash across her palate, bringing with it an intense pang of homesickness. She wanted Costis, and their father, and their small farm where nobody cared about kings and queens unless the tax collectors were making rounds.

Noise from deeper within the warren of rooms gave her just enough warning to sit upright as Helen - no, she reminded herself again, _Eddis_ \- came through from another chamber, trailed by a full squad of guards. She was dressed in riding tunic and trousers, and her hair curled over a bare forehead. “My familial duty has been discharged,” she said, smiling at Thalia, “And so I’m off home again tomorrow, but I felt I owed you an apology before I go.”

Belatedly, Thalia realized she ought to be standing, or bowing, and managed only a horrendous sort of wobble as she tried to do both at once. “No apology needed, Your Majesty,” she said breathlessly, and winced as she tried to straighten with some semblance of dignity.

Eddis frowned, but she seemed more annoyed with herself than Thalia. “I admit it was an enjoyable novelty to pretend at being just-Helen, but it was a lie nevertheless, even if one of omission, so an apology is in order. I’m sorry for my deception, but I am glad to have met you. You seem like you have your head on straight, and the gods know Eugenides could use more sensible folk around him.” Her lips twitched in private amusement, the same way they had when introducing herself, and Thalia thought suddenly that for all his protesting, the king was lucky to have family like Eddis.

The queen was still waiting, and Thalia said, honestly, “I don’t know that I could bear to spend the rest of my life in this court, but I’m flattered you think so well of me.” She took a deep breath. “And I’m glad to have met you as well.”

Eddis grinned. “Oh, excellent. I can always use more friends who think court is rubbish. I’m almost looking forward to the day when mine is nothing but ash and rubble.” Before Thalia could do more than blink at her in startled amazement, she went on. “I would invite you to Eddis, but I think now is not the right time. The mountain can be,” she paused, considering, and a shadow flickered in her eyes. “Temperamental.” Then she brightened again, and waved at the guards. “But if you wish to write me, Eugenides certainly has the means to pass the message on, and I would welcome a letter that isn’t just him whining about the heat.” They parted after Eddis had extracted a promise from Thalia to write at least once before she left the capital. It was, Thalia reflected as she stumbled dazedly back to her room, certainly the oddest promise she’d ever made, but one that she was happy to fulfill.

\------------------------------------------ 

True to her word, Eddis left with even less fanfare than she’d arrived, and the Guard seemed to heave a collective sigh as they settled back into comfortable routine. “Curse dawn practices,” Exis groaned at lunch, and the men around him grumbled feelingly, but it was the sort of complaint one made out of habit, rather than any real unhappiness.

“It keeps us mean,” Aris confided in a whisper. “The most terrifying force on the continent before breakfast.” She laughed, but he merely spread his hands in invitation. “Don’t believe me? Come see for yourself, tomorrow morning. We practice in the training yard for an hour after the first bell.” Then, at her look of skepticism, enticingly: “Costis usually has a go with the king.”

Well. The sunrise bell wasn’t _so_ early, was it?

 ------------------------------------------

The knock on the door startled her from a pleasantly floaty dream, and she was disorientingly jolted into wakefulness. Her heart thumped once, twice, rapid and unhappy in her chest, as she stared blankly into the pre-dawn light filtering through the curtains.   

The door. Dawn practices. She groaned and called out a muffled thanks to the maid who’d woken her as requested. Splashing cold water from a basin on her face helped, as did the bowl of dried figs the maid had thoughtfully brought.

She had just popped the last one in her mouth when she arrived in the yard in time to watch orderly lines of men disperse into pairs, saluting each other with practice blades before engaging in mock combat. Most of the Guard seemed to be here, filling the air with grunts of exertion and the clack of wood on wood. And there, in the corner, in their own little pocket of space, were Costis and the king. No embroidered coats for Attolis today. As the king slid forward into a graceful lunge to tap Costis’ ribs with the flat of his blade, the end of his right arm gleamed silver where he held it out to counterbalance, shirtsleeve not long enough to cover the metal hook. The king straightened, and he must have said something, because Costis shook his head ruefully, smiling. The king moved into the lunge again, slower but no less graceful, clearly demonstrating the technique as Costis watched. A few of the nearby pairs had also stopped to observe the lesson, and as they resumed their sparring, she saw them attempt to replicate the move with mixed results.

Costis, for his part, was wily or cautious enough to wait, letting several minutes pass before he shifted his weight and drove forward. His blade ghosted against the king’s side, but Attolis pivoted neatly, turning what would have been a devastating injury into a grazing pass, and whipped his sword down and around Costis’ outstretched arm to rest on his collarbone. From this position, she could see the king’s face. His lips moved in a taunt, ‘too slow’ easy to read even from a distance, and Costis went to swipe his legs out from under him. The king jumped straight up, tucking his feet up underneath him, and was laughing even before he touched the ground again. She’d never before had the inclination to hit things with sticks, but for the briefest of moments she felt the flash of temptation. They shifted positions, and despite the unevenness of the match Costis was smiling helplessly, looking at the king like he’d willingly let the man trounce him at swords every day of the week. Among of all the panting and sweating pairs before her, the two men in the corner looked like they were actually having fun.

And under the slowly brightening morning sunlight, the king was at ease in a way that he hadn’t been in the opulent palace. For the first time, Thalia could believe he was once the Thief of Eddis, slipping like quicksilver around Costis’ guard to score point after point, fast and agile and sure. Costis, determined but rooted, couldn’t seem to touch him. Move your feet, she wanted to shout. The king was all but attacking a stationary target.

But it was apparent even to her untrained eye that the workmanlike swordsmanship taught in the Guard was not up to the task of taking on Attolis. When Costis fell back yet again, rubbing his shoulder where the king had struck him, the king looked up at the sun, now overhead, and called a halt. He tucked his sword under his right arm and gave Costis a consolatory smirk before nodding to his attendants and striding off in the direction of the palace. He paused only briefly on his way out to speak to a young runner, who took off on his royal errand.

Costis was grimacing as he rolled his shoulders out, weaving through the dispersing men towards the armory where they stored the practice blades. As he drew nearer, she saw why - one half of the crossguard was cracked, a jagged line running through its center. One good blow and it would shatter. He raised his eyebrows as she fell in beside him, but didn’t comment, and she let the companionable silence stand as he returned the damaged blade and picked out a new one. She didn’t need words to make her point.

“The king is meeting with a trade delegation in an hour and wants me to attend him,” he said finally. “But I’m free in the evening, because there is to be dancing, and, I quote, ‘At least one of us ought to be having fun.’ Should we go out into the city for dinner? I know I’ve been neglecting you.” He sounded appropriately apologetic, which mollified her somewhat.

Still, what sort of younger sister would she be if she didn’t take advantage of the opportunities presented to her? Now that Costis was guaranteed a lieutenant’s wages, she might even be able to get him to spring for something extravagant.

They made plans to meet at the gates in a few hours’ time, and then went their separate ways. A runner came trotting down the steps, and she turned to watch him as he headed straight for Costis, presenting him with a damp cloth bag that Costis held to his bruised shoulder with an expression of relief. Ice, she suspected, and if that runner hadn’t been the one dispatched by the king she’d leave an offering in every temple from here to the Ormentiedes farm.

\------------------------------------------ 

Dinner was a pleasant affair at one of the nicer city _phatnai_ , its clientele primarily composed of wealthy traders. They ate accompanied by the quiet thrum of accents from all corners of Attolia and beyond, the gentle plucking of a lyre threading through the background chatter. She told him about meeting Eddis, and discovered that her brother’s face could reach heretofore-unseen shades of purple in his shock. Costis even let her steal the last piece of honey cake from his plate, and Thalia knew he must have felt more guilty than he let on for ignoring her. She was full and utterly content as they strolled through the city, meandering their way back to the palace complex.

They passed a pebble-edged garden, and out of habit Thalia stooped, and rose again with her fingers clenched around a smooth rock that fit just right in her palm. Costis noticed her rolling it around and chuckled. “Should I be worried for the local wildlife?”

“No.” She tossed it back and forth between her hands. “Costis, am I causing you trouble by being here?”

He threw her a startled glance. “Why do you ask?”

“That wasn’t a ‘no’,” she said. “It just seems like not all the Guard are happy I’m here. Like it’s some sort of favoritism, perhaps.”

Costis shrugged. “You’re not hurting anyone by being here, and neither of us is asking for royal favors. The rumor mill will figure that out sooner or later.” He grinned, a flash of teeth in the dusk. “Besides, the rest of the Guard doesn’t have to deal with the king on a daily basis. I think I’ve earned a bit of a break.”

“If you say so,” Thalia agreed. As if it wasn't becoming increasingly obvious that Costis was glued to the king’s side by choice as much as obligation. “I think he might be good for you. You may actually be developing a sense of humor, and I don’t think it was that stiff-lipped captain of yours who’s responsible.”

“Speaking of jokes, how’s your slingwork?” Costis asked cheerfully.

She punched him none-too-gently in the arm. “Excellent, thanks to you. Your bad reputation ran off all the village children, and someone has had to keep the wolves away from the herds.”

“Now who has no sense of humor,” Costis grumbled, rubbing his bicep where she’d struck him. “Still, I suppose Father has to make do.”

“Mhm. Especially with that new calf. The dogs do all right with the sheep and the goats, but the little one is forever straying.”

Costis looked up at the emerging stars, and frowned. “Speaking of which, we should hurry back. It’ll be fully dark shortly, and I’d prefer not to be wandering the city when it is.”

She picked up her pace obligingly, and soon the great gates that fronted Attolia’s court were in view.

“-And it’s not like Teleus has a problem with spear drills, but there are enough ex-guards who would raise a fuss that he’s never thought it worth the fight,” Costis was saying. She let him drone on, appreciating the glinting spectacle of the ornamented battlements illuminated by moonlight. They were nearly to the massive gates when Costis drew up short. “What’s - _Thalia, down!_ ”

Confused, she turned in time to see him launch himself towards her, desperation etched on his face.

Above, on the palace walls, a shadowed mass that she had taken to be part of the battlements resolved itself into a human shape. Trained to watch for assassins, Costis had seen what she had not: the man was not merely standing watch, but had drawn an arrow - aimed at them. At Costis’s shout, he let it fly.

The arrow punched through Costis’s chest, and Thalia screamed.

Costis went pale, staggered another step, and fell heavily on the ground. His attacker turned to flee, and Thalia felt a hazy fury settle over her.

A man with a good sling, their father had once said, could bring down a lightly-armored soldier at a hundred meters. If his aim was good and his arm was steady, a man could stand against others better-trained and better-equipped, and win by virtue of a single stone. Thalia’s sling was cracked leather and rope, and draped over a chair in her bedroom on the farm besides.

But she had a single stone, and so she drew her arm back, sighted, and threw.

At twenty meters it was no different from scaring the birds from the fields. Still warm from the heat of her hands, the rock took the man in the temple with a sick crack. In a twisted mockery of her brother he stumbled forward, but he was not so lucky as to be on the ground. Dizzy and reeling from the impact, he took another step forwards, hit a crenel, and overbalanced.

From the other side of the wall, there was a terrible sound.

Thalia’s scream had caught the attention of other guards. A group of them came at a run, cursing when they saw Costis bleeding sluggishly onto the road.

“Call a physician, and then let Captain Teleus know what’s happening. Come on, boys. Arms and legs, on three.” As one man peeled off in a dead sprint, the others hoisted Costis’ limp frame between them and set off for the barracks. The arrow gleamed slick with blood, and more fell with each step the guards took, leaving a gruesome trail in their wake. Numbly, Thalia followed.

She would never forget the groan Costis made when they snapped the arrow in two and pulled it out of him. She had silently refused to be banished from surgery, but the pain in her brother’s voice made her wish she had gone when the stammering doctor had asked it of her. The room was heavy with the scent of copper and the sharp tang of medicinal salve. A needle flashed, in and out.

She watched Costis’ chest rise and fall, and prayed to every god she could think of that it would not stop.

And then the door burst open, and on the other side stood the king.

Attolis had clearly been preparing for bed. His embroidered coat was absent, replaced with a plain wool overrobe; he wasn’t wearing his hook. “His attacker,” he snapped. His forehead was lightly sheened with sweat.

“Dead,” said one of the attending guards. “Fell off the wall.”  

“Fell?” The king asked in a terrible voice.

“The young lady has a strong arm.” The king finally seemed to see her, tucked away in a corner out of the way of the surgeon.

“Thank you,” he said, quiet and fervent.

She tried to respond, and found that tears were steadily dripping down her cheeks. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, and tried again. “He’s my brother,” she whispered, and could say no more. However unintentionally, she had killed a man tonight for Costis. It terrified her to realize that she would do it again, as many times as was needed, and she trembled as the last vestiges of anger left her. She could not even work up the energy to be properly astonished when the king came and sat next to her. Together, they watched Costis breathe.

Finally the physician looked up with a sigh, wiping his hands on a towel. “I’ve done what I can, and given him lethium for the pain. If his lungs remain whole, he may even survive. With the lethium he’ll sleep through the next day, and he ought to sleep more. He needs the rest. With Your Majesty’s leave, I’ll stay in the next room, but he’s in the gods’ hands now.” The king gestured permission, and the doctor and his retinue filed out of the small room.

It seemed much quieter with just the three of them. Attolis’ guards had departed with the doctor, presumably to wait in the hall.

The king broke the silence first. “You know, there was an attempt to assassinate me some time ago. He offered the goddess Philia ten gold cups if I survived,” he said conversationally. His easy tone was belied by the look in his eyes.

“Your Majesty?” Surely she had misheard. Ten gold cups would bankrupt the entire family and then some. Seeing as the king was hale and hearty in front of her very eyes, Costis should have been begging at every moneylender in the city, not sponsoring her visit to the city.

“The royal treasury was generous enough to cover the cost.” To her further shock, the king looked down at his hand, clenched his fingers into a nervous fist. “He’ll live.” He breathed slowly, a purposefully drawn-out expansion and contraction to match Costis, and touched a spot on his own chest, below the join of his shoulder. “I was run through with a sword, a few years ago. When I was less adequately guarded than I am now,” he added, with the slightest touch of humor lightening his expression. “I survived, and I was scrawny and underfed and - well, perhaps not _less_ stubborn than Costis, but certainly no more. He’ll live.”

Thalia breathed with them, let her heartbeat come down from its frantic gallop. “Ten gold cups, then,” she echoed, and waited until Attolis met her gaze. “Ten gold cups, _when_ he lives.”

After a moment, the king nodded.

\------------------------------------------ 

As promised, Costis slept through the night. Thalia and the king dozed in turns until the sun streamed through the cracked shutters. Then they resumed their watch, though the king seemed only half-awake and terribly upset to be even that much.

Around suppertime, Costis juddered, and woke. “Water,” he croaked.

Thalia nearly spilled the pitcher in an effort to seize it, but she poured a cupful with shaking hands and held it to Costis’ lips. He sipped at it, coughed, then drank again. Only once she'd lowered the cup did his gaze slide past her to the room's other occupant. His eyes widened.

"My King?"

“You should rest,” said Attolis. “Do you need more lethium?” Costis made a disgusted noise. “Very well. Food?” Costis shook his head. “Then you must sleep.”

“No,” Costis groaned. “What happened?” The king slid his eyes towards Thalia, then back away.

“The good captain is looking into it.”

She hadn’t even known the man’s name. Costis must have seen the flicker of emotion on her face, because he struggled to turn his face to hers. “Thalia. You’re hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she replied tersely. “Just worried about my fool of a brother. If I have to change the name of the calf to remember you by, I’ll be very put out.”

“Cowstis has a very nice ring to it,” the king said with mock seriousness, and Costis scowled. Attolis tutted at him. “Now, now, Petrus has demanded you rest with as much force as I’ve ever seen him muster. Sleep, or I’ll take my cue from Phresine and dose your food with lethium.”

“Aren’t you meant to be,” Costis tried to gesture a hand in the air and failed spectacularly at managing more than a pathetic wriggle. “King-ing?” His tone was despairing, but his eyes betrayed him, still alight with pleased surprise at Attolis' presence.

“My queen is more than capable of managing without me for a day. I daresay she even prefers it. Sleep or lethium, Costis?”  

“A story,” Costis said decisively, and Thalia watched as some of the pained tension dropped out of the king’s shoulders as he snorted in amusement.

“Oh, alright. But if that doesn’t put you to sleep I’ll be pouring the lethium down your throat without an ounce of pity.” The king dragged the low bench closer, resettled himself and patted it to indicate that Thalia should sit as well. “This is the story of Merope and the Sacred Mountain.”

_In the generations following the crowning of Hamiathes, first king of Eddis, the people worshipped the Sky and the Earth and the Great Goddess, and the world was at peace. Eddis was, at this time, still nestled amongst the mountains, but the walls of her great city were always in sunlight, for there was no Sacred Mountain to cast a shadow in the long winters._

_Now, the king and his nobles lived in the city, but for as long as there has been an Eddis there have been Eddisian hill-folk, and at this time the prettiest of them all was a young woman named Merope. Like all hill-folk she learned how to milk goats and weave wool, to know when a cliff could be climbed and when it would crumble beneath her boots. But where others in her village spoke longingly of the comforts of the city, Merope found freedom in the open air and snow-capped peaks, and was happy to remain in the hills. She was as diligent as she was beautiful, and in the summers often slept under the gem-studded velvet of the sky, wrapped in sheepskin against the cold. Even though any of a dozen men would have happily married her and kept in her luxury, she was content to be with the flocks, roaming her beloved mountains._

_It was on one such night that she caught the attention of Hesperos._

_Eosphoros, as you know, is the guardian star, shining brighter than all others and keeping a watchful eye on Father Sky for the Great Goddess. No one lives who remembers the days when he did not shine alone. But once he had a twin, and that was Hesperos. Where Eosphoros watches the Sky, Hesperos had always watched Mother Earth, and it was as he carried out his sacred duty that he noticed Merope lying asleep on the mountain below him, and was struck by her beauty._

_He came to her, pale-haired and wreathed in starfire, and Merope woke, frightened. In a tremulous voice she asked, “What manner of ghost are you?”_

_Hesperos laughed, and answered, “None, my lady. I am a guide, that weary travelers’ feet will not stray from the path.” She knew him then, and smiled._

_Her happiness was a light unlike that of any star Hesperos had seen, and thereafter he spent many an evening trying to bring it forth again. The wolves stayed far away whenever he was near, so Merope was always grateful for the effect of his presence - and then, after some time, for his company alone._

_For they did not pass those long, dark hours in silence. They shared with each other what they knew of the world. He spoke of the grand machinations of the gods, and in turn she described the small joys of human life under a sun he had never seen. So they came to know each other as friends._

_A year passed. One night, Merope noticed that Hesperos seemed upset. “Tell me what is wrong,” she pleaded. “You are dear to me, and I would not wish you to be unhappy.”_

_“I am not certain myself,” said Hesperos. “My chest aches when we part, and burns even worse when we meet.” Merope smiled again, for she knew this too, and felt the same way._

_“That is love,” she said, and kissed him._

Attolis paused, poured himself a cup of water from the pitcher Thalia had discarded, and gulped it down. “The end.”

“Is not,” Costis whispered. “You said - Merope and the Sacred Mountain. No mountain yet.”

The king sighed. “Damn, I suppose I did. Fine.” He cleared his throat, and resumed his story.

_Infatuated, Hesperos began to spend all of his time on the ground, wanting only to be near Merope. Weeks went by, full of joy and affection. But Hesperos’ absence did not go unnoticed forever. From her great throne Hephestia saw that one star glittered where there should have been two. She called Eosphoros, Guardian of the Sky, to her, and Eosphoros came. When he told her of his twin’s mortal lover, Hephestia’s wrath was terrible. How dare Hesperos ignore her command?_

_Eosphoros, alike in image if not in temperament, carried a message to the land. “Hephestia summons you,” he told Hesperos. “Renounce this temporary foolishness and beg her mercy.”_

_“Love is not foolishness,” Hesperos declared. “But as I am summoned, I shall go.”_

_Merope saw in his eyes that he did not expect to return and could not help but weep. “Please,” she begged. “I will pray to the goddess, and perhaps she will forgive you. I would rather know you live, and be able to look on you each night, even if we never meet again.”_

_Hesperos caught one glistening tear on his finger and pressed it to his heart. “I could not say you mean nothing to me,” he said. “But you have given me the gift of your love, and so I shall leave you with a gift in return.” From around his neck he drew a rope of shimmering fire, and Merope fell back before it, but as he placed it around her head it cooled, and was diamond. “Remember me,” he said, and vanished._

_Hephestia’s fury was not abated when Hesperos arrived in her court. “Renounce her,” the goddess told him. “And resume your duty!”_

_“I cannot,” said Hesperos simply, and Hephestia stood, towering above him._

_“You must,” she rumbled. “If you will not do it from the sky, then you may fulfill it from the earth.” And she cast Hesperos out, flinging him with such strength that he created an enormous scar on the land where he fell. As he flared bright in his struggles, he boiled the rock in which he was trapped, and Hephestia was forced to pile weight after weight atop him, burying him deep under a mound of stone. When she was finished, a new mountain stood tall in the sky, and Hesperos the fire hiding in its center, forced to carry out his duty until the end of time._

_As for Merope, she took the diamond crown down the mountain to her village, and placed it in the temple of the Earth, praying for her love’s safe return. Yet having given up all that she had to remember him by, she grew old alone for waiting. The story goes that at the end of her life she traveled to the Sacred Mountain, wanting to reunite with Hesperos in death, but the instant her foot touched the slopes she was struck down, and the mountain wept great fiery tears for her, scorching all but the ground where she lay. Even now, when the ground shakes around Eddis people say it is the Earth trying to free Hesperos from his eternal prison, in remembrance of Merope’s love and sacrifice._

“And that really is the end,” the king said.

Costis thought for a long moment. His lashes dipped, slowly, once. Again. “Phresine’s story was better,” he pronounced, each word an effort. Judgment passed, his eyelids drooped closed, and he began to snore softly.

“Phresine does tell very good stories,” the queen observed from the doorway, sounding like she was making a comment about the year’s wool production. Thalia didn’t know how long she’d been standing there, listening to her husband’s tale.

The king huffed. “Nonsense. Hers are terribly moralistic.”

“And yours wasn’t?” The queen asked lightly. The king tensed as if she’d struck him.

“My dear,” he said finally, without looking away from the bed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Look,” the queen said. Her voice was odd. “See how I burn for you.” Thalia waited a beat for her to continue, but Attolia said nothing more, only brushed one pale hand across her husband’s tousled hair before quietly withdrawing.

The king laughed, low and embarrassed, when he noticed Thalia’s stare. “Perhaps she’s right, and Phresine is better after all.”

\------------------------------------------ 

Aris brought a note from Teleus for the king, a single line of text in the captain’s rough scrawl. Wordlessly, the king scanned it and then passed it to her. Thalia read: _Nikandros of Meinedes._

So he had not heeded Aris’ warning.

“A fourth son. Ah, well,” Attolis said, and his eyes glittered coldly. “The Baron Meinedes has three others to inherit, more’s the pity. I do not find myself inclined to like any man who raises his children to kill their brothers-in-arms.”

Thalia could not muster herself to respond to this, and half-wished the king would just leave her be. But his features softened into something not quite like pity, but understanding. “I believe Nikandros himself was unmarried. No children. If it helps.”

My brother, she thought fiercely. _My brother._

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said. “It does.”

 ------------------------------------------

The next time the queen came by, it was to pack the king off for a bath and a proper meal. They had passed more than a full day without either, but Thalia was too exhausted to be embarrassed about how disheveled she was, even as the queen paused to inspect her. Attolia lingered in the doorway long after the grumbling king had passed through it.

“I’m glad he is well. He is your only sibling, is he not?”

Thalia twitched, startled to realize that with Costis asleep and the king absent, Attolia was speaking to _her_. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen, Your Majesty.”

The queen’s dark eyes were assessing, steady. “And unmarried, or you wouldn’t be here now.”

“My father is looking, Your Majesty,” she replied, and hoped Attolia wouldn’t ask -

“Is it a matter of insufficient dowry,” the queen said, “Or merely the indignity of associating with my reprobate of a husband?” Thalia couldn’t help the slight _oh_ that escaped her. Diplomatic tact didn’t extend to visiting farm girls, she supposed, but she couldn’t help but be thrown off guard. Her tongue didn’t seem to want to cooperate any more.

“Both, Your Majesty,” she finally admitted. She felt like she ought to be apologizing for implying the king was a wastrel - then again, Attolia had done it first. To be fair, she added, “And I don’t - I am not sure that I am ready to be married yet.”  

“Indeed. Well, when I say that marriage is not designed to be kind to women,” the queen said dryly, “I hope you agree that I speak from experience.”

“....Your Majesty?”

“I am queen,” Attolia mused. “And I married because my people needed me to - but I have learned, since then, that I can forgive myself for having an ulterior motive.” She looked at Thalia, and her eyes softened. “I love my husband,” she said, “And he is king because he loves me in return. But if you will allow me to speak plainly - and I think you will - he loves your brother as well. We have talked about it. I would see Eugenides happy.”  

“And I Costis,” Thalia replied automatically. “But -” She paused, not knowing a delicate way to say that she didn’t think Attolia felt as her husband did. The conversation was so past the bounds of propriety that there probably wasn’t one. But she remembered Costis’ wistful voice - a thousand times worse than a missing hand to anyone who took the king from his queen.

“I have also learned,” the queen said quietly, “That it is possible to grow to love someone, given the chance. I have seen the way Costis looks at Eugenides, but your brother is an honorable man, and would never dare to court someone sworn to another. And my husband, who has so few allies in this country, would never risk losing one of his most treasured friends. So they are at an impasse, and because they are men they will put on brave faces and pretend that they do not hurt for it.”

Thalia picked at the sheets. It didn’t _sound_ like the queen was trying to get her to warn her brother off. If she wasn’t….Costis was deep in lethium-induced sleep, but it was deeply uncomfortable to be discussing his romantic opportunities while he was lying in the bed beside her. She couldn’t quite meet the queen’s gaze. “I’m not sure I understand why you’re telling me this, Your Majesty.”

“Because I would like to do something about it,” Attolia said, matter-of-fact. “Am I right in thinking that you have also noticed Costis’ affections?”

No point in lying now. “Yes, Your Majesty.”  
  
“Then perhaps you can reassure him that he is in no danger if he acts on them.”

“But you don’t love him,” Thalia blurted, then winced at her own tactlessness.

“No,” the queen admitted freely. “I do not. I promise only that I can give Costis the opportunity for one happiness.” Attolia didn’t cower as she met Thalia’s stare. “But, as I said, I grew to love my husband.”

“I see. I think.” Like the image of Costis in bed with the king wasn’t shocking enough on its own. But the queen too?

“I would hope - that this does not prevent you from keeping troth in me,” Attolia murmured. “Though I would understand if it troubles you.”

This was firmer ground. “Never,” Thalia swore. “You kept Attolia safe. You kept Costis safe. As long as you do, you will always be my queen.”

A satisfied smile spread across Attolia’s lips. “In light,” the queen said, “Of the loyalty your family has offered me and mine, and my sympathies for your circumstance, I believe I would like to make you an offer.”

Thalia took a deep breath, and tried to calm her hammering heart. “What did you have in mind?”

\------------------------------------------ 

 When Costis woke again, they were blessedly alone. The queen had, perhaps, conspired to keep the king occupied for some time with his many other obligations. That was good - there were several things Thalia wanted to say, and none of them were better expressed with an audience.

Costis yawned and extended his arms in a stretch before wincing and dropping them back to the bedclothes. “Mmf. What time is it?”

“Near noon. How do you feel?” He looked better, at least, no longer the washed-out grey he had been when they carried him in.

“Like someone shot me.” He twisted to look at her, and then gasped as it tweaked his wound. “Did they catch the thrice-cursed bastard?”

Thalia pushed him back down and left her hand on his shoulder, soothing. “...No.” Costis scowled.

“That’s unacceptable. He could have gone after any palace resident, and it was our good luck that he got a guard, not some noble. We need to know who he was working for.”

She didn’t want to tell him, but he was working himself up, and sweat was already beading on his too-pale forehead. If he strained himself arguing - “Costis, he _was_ a guard.”

He frowned at her. “How do you know? You said they didn’t catch him - Thalia?” His gaze sharpened, suspicious. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Gods _curse_ it. “He’s dead.” It felt like picking at a cut, never letting it scab over and heal, and so she laughed wildly rather than cry again. “Father can add it to my list of good qualities. Weaves, sews, can kill a man from fifty paces with a rock.”

“Thalia….”

She pressed her nails into her palm. “I’m not trying to be blithe, Costis, but it happened. I can’t take it back, and I am beginning to forgive myself for the fact that I don’t want to.” She chanced a peek at his face.

He looked terribly sad underneath his pallor. “I wish you didn’t have to worry about forgiveness in the first place, little sister.”

She shrugged, willfully casual even as she thrummed with nerves. “As I said - it happened. There are more important matters.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Like whether or not you are happy.” Costis raised his eyebrows at her. “No, listen. You nearly died. And it is by the grace of that doctor and your own hard head that you didn’t, but Costis, if you _did_ , it would be like losing you twice over to know that you did not have all that you wished for in life.”

“And what,” he murmured, “Am I currently lacking?”

“Love,” she said, and resolutely ignored his groan of complaint. She thought of Eddis, uncomplicatedly kind, and blunt, honest Attolia. And the king, burning bright. “There is someone who loves you, and through ignorance real or feigned you have let their love go unanswered.” Costis winced. “Aha. I see it is the latter.”

“There are - unique circumstances,” he tried, but she waved him off.

“Nonsense. Are you ready to admit that the feelings are mutual?”

“Thalia, _really_ ,” he growled, but it came out weak and unconvincing.

“Are you?”

Costis buried his head in his hands. “Sometimes I don’t like you very much,” he muttered into his palms.

She waited. Sweat-darkened hair dipped in a nod.

“Then I say this because I want your happiness more than almost anything else.” She waited until he was begrudgingly looking at her. “ _Tell him_.”

“I.” Costis made knots in the sheets. “I don’t think -”

“Everything will work out,” she promised. “And if you cannot trust me that far, then trust that should it not, I will help you pick up the pieces afterwards.”

Slowly, slowly, Costis nodded again. “I feel rather like our positions have been switched,” he admitted wryly after a moment. “Like you are the elder and I a mere child in comparison.” He caught her hand. “And I am proud, and grateful. But Thalia - I want you to be happy too.”

“Ah. About that.”

“Do you need me to speak to Father?” he asked earnestly. “Is there someone you like?”

“Rather the opposite,” she confessed. “But the queen has agreed to, um, sponsor my education? And my joining the traders’ guild.”

He dropped her hand and stared. “What.”

“I told her I didn’t feel ready to get married yet. She has given me a small pension, and my room in the palace for as long as I want it, and I am to communicate with Eddis and learn about the proper transportation of goods in cold-weather climes. I will be doing something useful, you see? Not just waiting about for someone to settle for the poor daughter of a questionable family.”

“I suppose,” Costis said slowly.

“But,” she grinned slyly at him, “I appreciate your offer to speak to Father on my behalf! _You_ can tell him that his months of searching were in vain.”

Costis knuckled his forehead. “Sometimes I don’t like you very much _at all_. And what does the queen get, in return for this generosity?”

“I told her I would encourage your suit. And reassure you that there will be no royally-sanctioned assassins should the object of your affections take you up on your offer.”

Costis blanched. “How very compassionate of you both. Should I be running for the hills from your terrifying new alliance?”

“I may have had an ulterior motive. If you are bound to the palace, then Father has no one to inherit. Except me.”

“You?” he asked, puzzled.

“Costis,” she said. “This is what would make me happy.”

He searched her face, and seemed to recognize that she was telling the truth. “Then I have been doubly neglectful,” he murmured. “Thalia, the gods know I’d be terrible at managing our holdings, much less making them turn a profit. I’d have happily signed the entirety of my property inheritance over to you if I knew you wanted them, queen or no queen.”

“I know,” she said, and smiled at him so he knew there was no harm done. “But this way, I can prove that I deserve it. To myself, and to everyone.”

\------------------------------------------ 

The palace physician declared Costis fit to return to duty - “ _Light_ duty,” the man stressed - three weeks later. Thalia was in the barracks eating breakfast with Aris when he entered, clad in his uniform since the first time since the attack, and she stood with the rest of the Guard to stamp and cheer.

“I’m glad you are well,” Teleus said brusquely, and they clasped forearms for a moment before the older man waved a dismissive hand. “Go on, you know where you’re supposed to be.”

“I should go too,” she said cheerfully to Aris, but she lingered for a few minutes longer, then trailed Costis from a distance, following the glint of light on his buckles as he strode through the halls. They entered the wing where the royal apartments were situated, and Thalia slowed further as the bustle of people in the hallways thinned. Costis stood before a pair of massive carved doors, knocked, and was admitted inside. She crept forward.

“-good to see you on your feet again.” That was the king, and his teasing tone was shot through with real relief.

“Glad to be back, Your Majesty.” A pause. “I - I missed being at my king's side. At your side.”

"Then I must be doing something wrong," the king said wryly.  
  
"I am your guard," Costis replied, still hesitant. "I will always come back to you."

Thalia wanted to reach out and throttle him. Boys were _terrible_ at expressing their feelings.

“Costis,” the king said. “May I kiss you?”

Or perhaps it was a flaw unique to her brother. From the other side of the door, she heard someone enter the room, the delicate tread of lighter feet. Costis took a shaky breath. “I - My Queen?”

The king was clearly stifling laughter. “Ouch. I ask to kiss you, and you look to her instead? I could make it an order, if you’d prefer.”

At the same time, the queen said firmly, “Enough. You have not gotten any better at seduction with a crown on your head.”  

“It worked on you, didn’t it?” There was a warm silence, broken by the sound of booted feet shuffling awkwardly.

“You should already know you have my permission,” the queen said. “If that is what holds you back.”

“No! I mean, I know. I just – what do you want from me, My Queen?”

“Guard my husband’s heart as you guard the rest of him,” said Attolia. “That is enough, for now. We'll leave guessing at the future to the gods.”

“Costis,” the king said again, only he was no longer Attolis but Eugenides, and his voice was infinitely gentle. “It’s all right. Only if you want to.” Attolia hummed agreement under her breath.

The noise Costis made sounded like the last sigh of man who has found himself drowning and is happy about it. And then his voice, strong as an oath: “I want to.”

That was her cue. Fighting a smile, Thalia turned to leave. The details of what her brother got up to on his own time - and with whom - were his own business. Sisterly duty only extended so far, after all, and though Costis would be entertainingly mortified if he knew she’d been listening, she thought that maybe, just this once, she’d let him off the hook.

Maybe she would go write that promised letter to Eddis. There was a lot of good news she wanted to share.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come say hi on [Tumblr](http://jedi-seagull.tumblr.com/)!


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